


Some Kind of Anomaly

by NeurotropicAgentX



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Blow Job, Hero Worship, M/M, Military Kink, Rare Pair, Space Fascists, Technobabble, Time Travel, Unstable Ghost-Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-01 07:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6508504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeurotropicAgentX/pseuds/NeurotropicAgentX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The explosion of a Death Star creates enough of a disruption in the fabric of space-time to cause a temporal anomaly. General Hux doesn't quite know how to deal with the appearance of <i>the</i> Grand Moff Tarkin in the middle of the Starkiller's control room. He also doesn't know how much Tarkin has deduced about his situation... or about Hux himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from [this](https://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/2821.html?thread=4501509#cmt4501509) TFA kinkmeme prompt. Thanks to random!anon for encouraging me to cross-post. Thanks to my editor for all her invaluable assistance.

‘Sir, Lord Vader has deployed his TIE fighter escort against the rebels. He’s leading the counterattack himself,’ General Moradmin Bast reported.

Tarkin nodded without taking his eyes of the set of displays detailing both the status of the Death Star’s weapon arrays and the positions of the suicidal rebels. 

‘I see. If Lord Vader doesn’t wish to trust the most powerful weapon in the galaxy, that’s his prerogative.’ His hands flew over the interfaces of control consoles as he managed the twin tasks of powering up the superlaser and maintaining the Death Star’s defensive weapons. The rebel ships were dropping off the sensors one by one, but their attack was leeching power from the laser.

Bast hesitated. ‘We’ve run the calculations, sir, and checked the trajectory of the rebel ships. They’re aiming for the thermal exhaust ports. There is a chance that they could destroy the Death Star. It might be best to ready your ship for evacuation, just in case.’

Tarkin snorted. ‘Courage, my dear general. We are standing on a battle station the size of a small moon, equipped with the finest weapons technology the Empire possesses. Once we show them the true might of the superlaser they will fall trembling before us.’ Besides, abandoning the Death Star during its moment of triumph would not be a reassuring image.

‘But sir—,’ Bast started to protest, just as a wave of percussive force swamped the control room and everything whited out. Tarkin turned to his diagnostic screens, searching for the problem. His consciousness slipped away just he started to register the flashing numbers before him.

///

The Starkiller lurched. It was remarkably similar to the sensation of going into hyperdrive in a ship equipped with the oldest models of inertial dampeners. Hux gripped the sides of his command console and barked an order to Engineering for a status update. He desperately hoped there was nothing wrong with the base. 

When he turned around to survey the control room, he stopped short. An intruder was in the process of getting to his feet in the middle of the floor. He was dressed in a uniform that Hux instantly recognised as an old Imperial style. More important were the rank signifiers and the face, however. Hux’s mouth went dry. It was impossible. It _couldn’t_ be…

‘Lower your weapons!’ he shouted at his troops. He winced internally at the way his voice cracked on the last word.

He strode over to the intruder and gave an archaic salute in the Imperial tradition. ‘Welcome aboard, Grand Moff Tarkin,’ he said crisply.

Tarkin’s hand had been lying casually on his blaster, ready to draw. Now he scrutinised his environment. His sharp gaze flicked over the insignia on Hux’s uniform, the rank signifiers and likely the sweat that was beading on his forehead. Tarkin’s hand dropped away from his blaster, but the sense of guardedness remained.

‘General, is it?’ he asked. ‘You seem to have me at a disadvantage.’

‘General Hux, sir. You… there must have been some sort of anomaly. This isn’t your time.’

Tarkin was silent for a long moment. ‘How far in the future is this?’ he asked.

Hux blinked. Tarkin was fast. How much could Hux say without giving away anything about the Empire? ‘Quite a while, sir,’ he evaded. ‘You’re among the successors to the Empire’s glorious legacy.’

‘I see.’

‘What was happening around you before this? What was the date?’ Hux asked. He tried to remember any rumours about unstable time-fields. There was no shortage of unsubstantiated tales about the ghosts of old battles being fought across deserted star-fields. There were even vague conspiracies about exploding hyperspace technology weakening the fabric of space/time. This was the first time Hux had ever encountered something empirically provable though. 

‘It was the year one thousand after the Ruusan Reformation, if that means anything to you,’ Tarkin said.

Hux did the mental arithmetic, but it really wasn’t necessary. The date one thousand years after the Ruusan Reformation was 0 BBY, in galactic standard, though of course Tarkin wouldn’t know that. It was the year that marked the battle of Yavin and the rebel scum’s first major victory against the Empire. It was the year of Tarkin’s death.

‘You were at Yavin on the Death Star,’ Hux forced himself to say.

Tarkin inclined his head. ‘I see the date remains significant to this day. How far is that, exactly?’

Well, if evasion didn’t work against Tarkin, there were always other approaches. ‘I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to be discussing temporal matters with someone outside their time, sir,’ said Hux. ‘We don’t… we just don’t know the effects on space-time.’

Tarkin stared hard at Hux. ‘Very well,’ he finally said. ‘What do you propose?’

Hux was glad to have something he could actually address. ‘I’ll get what information I can out of our specialists in theoretical and applied physics. We need to determine if this is a temporary or permanent shift for you. Otherwise, well, I’d be honoured to give you a tour of our base.’

Tarkin gave a thin smile that held a mocking edge. ‘Lead on, general. I’m very interested in the innovations that the Empire’s… inheritors… have made since my time.’ 

Hux felt a surge of pride. It might not be appropriate to leave his post for something like this, but he was coming off a triple shift and was owed some downtime. Beside, this was the opportunity of a lifetime and he had no idea how long Tarkin’s presence would last. His subordinates were more than capable of running things in his absence.

Hux shot off a quick report to his physicists, asking about the sort of temporal effect the destruction of a Death Star could have, and flagged it high priority. The cohort of scientists that put together the Starkiller schematics had revolutionised the fields of hyperspace tunnelling and dark energy. They were the best chance for getting a useful answer about Tarkin’s situation. 

///

‘The only way was to use a planet itself. Not only does this allow for an unprecedented size, but the magnetic field of the planet has been incorporated into the containment field.’

‘Interesting. What deals with the recoil from firing?’ Tarkin asked. 

Hux was thrilled to be able to launch into an explanation of the systems that were in place to stop the base from shaking apart from groundquakes. Tarkin had analysed every bit of information Hux had given and asked incisive questions. It was a pleasure conversing with him. 

Tarkin ran a hand across the panelling of the hallway. ‘I recognise a lot of the systems you describe. You’re not quite as far along as I’d expect, given that you have the resources to modify _planets_.’

Hux swallowed. ‘It’s true that containment and stabilisation systems are based on old principles, but the Starkiller itself is capable of firing a beam of phantom energy through sub-hyperspace near-instantaneously.’ 

Tarkin gave Hux a long look. ‘I’ve never heard the term “phantom energy” before,’ he said.

‘Phantom energy describes a type of energy that hadn’t even been discovered in your time,’ Hux said. He hoped Tarkin wouldn’t press him for details, as that was about the extent of his understanding of the Starkiller’s super-weapon.

‘Well, I won’t deny that the view is impressive when you’re standing on the shoulders of giants,’ Tarkin said.

Hux’s datapad chimed as he received an incoming report. He apologised to Tarkin, but checked the notification from the head of the theoretical physics department. The message was full of technical jargon and some old citations about temporal flux from ships that had exploded mid-hyperdrive jump. A lot of it was beyond Hux’s understanding, but the summary was clear enough. ‘Temporal wave function, unstable ghost-loop, expect anomalies to resolve 1-2 standard days.’ 

Hux stared at the report. He’d feared as much, but having it laid out made it more real. This wasn’t some ultimate action of the universe saving Tarkin from his untimely death. He would return to his time as if this whole incident had never happened. Hux read the next lines of the report. ‘Time-paradoxes unproven, but potentially catastrophic.’ Well, it wasn’t as if there was much that could go wrong in two days, especially since Tarkin would have no way of influencing his time upon his return.

‘Something the matter?’ Tarkin asked him.

‘My physicists believe you’ll return to your time in a day or two. I… I’ll have some quarters set up for you in the meantime.’

Tarkin nodded. ‘Thank you, general.’

Hux sent off a request for temporary officer-level accommodations before continuing his tour. In some ways the news about the anomaly changed nothing.

///

‘I hope these quarters will suffice during your stay, sir,’ said Hux.

Tarkin took a step forward into Hux’s space. ‘Thank you, general. You’ve been very… accommodating. I appreciate how much time you’ve dedicated, considering that I’m technically outside of the chain of command—that I technically shouldn’t be here at all.’

Hux swallowed. ‘It’s the least that I, that is, the First Order could do. Considering your position.’

‘Still,’ Tarkin replied, ‘your own position is quite high in the First Order’s structure. You could have easily delegated this to someone else.’

‘It wouldn’t have seemed right.’

Tarkin took a moment to survey his quarters. He spoke again while his back was toward Hux. ‘You know, I can recognise hero-worship when it’s been following me around all shift,’ he said casually.

Hux closed his eyes a fraction too long for a blink. In some ways it was a relief just to have it laid out like that. He summoned his courage. ‘I don’t see a problem with that. As you say, you’re technically outside our military hierarchy. The fraternisation code of conduct wouldn’t apply,’ Hux replied equally casually. 

A part of him was alarmed at his own presumption, but a larger part realised that this would be his only chance, and regardless of how things turned out, Tarkin would soon return to his own time. And to his death.

Tarkin turned back to face him. He gave a thin smile and Hux’s pulse raced. ‘How admirably bold, general. What exactly are you offering?’

It was now or never. Hux went to his knees on the durasteel floor after only a brief hesitation. He hoped he hadn’t imagined that barest hitch of breath from Tarkin. 

‘Well, isn’t this an old reminder from academy days. It’s practically nostalgic,’ Tarkin remarked. Hux’s breath caught and he shivered. He remembered his own academy days with mixed feelings.

Tarkin’s hand carded through Hux’s hair and tugged lightly. Hux felt the sensation flash down his spine and light up his nerves. His gaze flickered up, noting the bulge in Tarkin’s dress uniform, and the smirk that was curling around his lips. Hux’s breath came faster.

‘Go ahead, general,’ Tarkin said.

Hux debated asking Tarkin to use his name, but discarded the thought almost instantly. This was better. Something in him was craving the sense of military hierarchy. The fact that he was a step below the highest echelons made a slow heat curl in his gut.

‘Yes sir,’ he replied breathlessly. Tarkin’s hand tightened in his hair. Perhaps Hux wasn’t the only one enjoying this sense of rightful order.

Hux’s hands shook slightly as he undid the clasps and moved fabric to free Tarkin’s erection. Tarkin gave a long sigh and used his grip to pull Hux forward. Hux ran his tongue up the side of Tarkin’s cock, before taking it into his mouth. His eyes fluttered closed as he sucked, enjoying the hand in his hair and the heavy feeling of Tarkin’s cock on his tongue.

‘Put your hands behind your back,’ Tarkin said a moment later.

Hux’s eyes shot open. He hurried to comply, clasping his hands behind himself in an echo of parade rest. Tarkin dragged his head forward, leisurely forcing Hux to take him deeper. Hux relaxed his throat and exhaled sharply through his nose. It was just this side of uncomfortable and Tarkin’s cruel smile made it perfect. 

‘You’re taking this well, general, but I’m a firm believer in testing the limits of capability.’ With that, Tarkin started to thrust. 

Hux’s cock throbbed in his pants as the pace intensified. He could barely breathe and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tarkin’s hungry expression. He was desperate to touch himself, even just to grind the heel of his palm against his erection to relieve some of the ache. Instead, his thumbnail dug into his palm and he uttered a low sound.

Tarkin’s sharp gaze didn’t miss any of it. In an act of dubious mercy, he shifted his stance to bring one foot between Hux’s spread knees. The toe of his boot pressed lightly against Hux’s cock, keeping the pressure carefully controlled. Hux shook. The threat and the friction combined into a single white-hot sensation that narrowed his entire focus to that point. A keening whimper escaped him, though it was muffled by Tarkin’s cock.

Tarkin groaned. ‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘You’re going to come like this—kneeling on the floor with my boot on your balls and my cock down your throat.’ 

Hux made another broken sound at that and rutted helplessly against Tarkin’s boot. Even that barest hint of friction was enough. He shuddered as came in his pants. 

Tarkin was merciless and continued thrusting into Hux’s throat. The vicious smile on his lips never faltered for an instant and when he came, he pulled back just enough to spill over Hux’s tongue. Hux almost choked as he tried to swallow, the taste thick on his tongue. He fell forward to his hands and knees, coughing. 

‘Thank you, sir,’ he croaked, the words rising almost unbidden.

Tarkin gave an appreciative hum. ‘It looks like you got a drop or two on my boot.’

Hux shuddered as a wild impulse seized him. He bent down further and swiped the drops from Tarkin’s boot with his tongue. When he dared to look up, Tarkin was wearing an approving smile. 

‘That will be all, general. You have a base to run,’ Tarkin said.

Hux nodded, not quite trusting his voice. He got to his feet and made himself as presentable as possible. A trip to the ’fresher was most certainly in order. He gave one final salute, this time in the First Order tradition, before turning to go. 

‘There are worse legacies to leave behind,’ Tarkin said as Hux reached the door. ‘I think the Empire would have smiled on the works of your First Order.’ 

‘Thank you, sir,’ Hux replied. He wondered just how much the Grand Moff had deduced about the Empire’s trajectory, or even his own fate.

///

When Tarkin felt again the sensation of percussive force and the Death Star reappeared around him, everything was as he’d left it. The diagnostics screens still flashed red, the numbers climbing as radiation containment leaks and structural breaches worsened. In his last moments, Tarkin didn’t panic. He’d known his death was imminent from the not so subtle response of the Starkiller general about the date he’d given. More obviously still, he’d had no reservations about describing future technology.

The only thing that really irked Tarkin was the way he’d been unable to get a proper answer about what time he’d arrived at. Had the Empire actually fallen as a result of this battle? How long did it take for the Empire to resurge under new banners? How long had the galaxy languished without clean, brutal order? For all his disappointment in the technological advances, Tarkin hadn’t lied. The First Order did indeed seem a worthy successor to his legacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second chapter is pure crack about the OC scientists in the applied and theoretical physics departments dealing with Hux's bizarre communiqué about time travel. It is nothing like the first chapter. It is all my editor's fault.


	2. Chapter 2

The head of applied physics opened the high priority communiqué from General Hux. She read through the document. ‘What?’ she muttered to herself. Hux had also copied in the head of theoretical physics. She opened a communication channel to her colleague. 

The head of theoretical physics gave her a little wave. ‘Hey, Kynase, how goes the tinkering? Have you decided to just give in and become an engineer yet?’

‘My work goes about the same as your hypothetical projects that will never, ever have any practical applications, ever, Maravaroc.’ 

Maravaroc smirked at her. ‘I assume this is about Hux’s bizarre report.’

‘Yeah. Is he trying to build a time machine or something? Why the kriff did he ask applied physics something like this?’

‘Good question, why would he ever ask you guys anything?’ Maravaroc’s smile held for another second before he ran a hand through his hair and blew out a long breath. ‘Yeah, I have no idea what he wants. No one’s ever published anything about time-travel, except maybe as a footnote regarding _purely hypothetical_ situations, blah blah, crucial field of study, merits further investigation, give us funds. You know how it is.’

Kynase nodded. ‘I mean there has always been talk about hyper-drive being a bit weird, especially during explosions, but it’s not as if anyone’s ever been close enough to an exploding _Death Star_ to take readings. Besides, they wouldn’t even have had the equipment to get useful readings back then.’

Maravaroc’s assistant piped up from the corner of the office. ‘Should we be worried? Is the general planning on blowing up the Starkiller so he can _travel through time_?’

‘Ah, no. I don’t think so,’ Kynase said. ‘He’s not actually crazy. I mean, he’s a general, right?’

‘So what do we do?’ Maravaroc asked. 

‘Well, he’s not exactly asking for a publication. We could just… make something up. You know, as a best-guess. One that makes it clear that you can’t use a super-weapon to time-travel.’

Maravaroc snorted. ‘Wow. That’s the sort of talking that can get your science license revoked.’

‘Kriff you, it’s not going to peer review and it’s not as if the general even has the background to understand the sources we’d be citing.’ 

Just then one of Kynase’s senior scientists burst into her office. Trimsip never broke protocol without a really good reason. 

‘What are you—,’ Kynase started to ask, but Trimsip spoke over the top of her.

‘Time-traveller. Actual, genuine, real-life time-traveller appeared in the control room! People are saying it’s one of the brass who was on the first Death Star.’

Both heads of department stared. ‘Call your lab in. This is big,’ Kynase said. 

It was a testament to how important this was that Maravaroc merely nodded at being given an order by an applied physicist. 

It wasn’t long before both offices were filled with scientists at various levels of excitement. Most of them were asking questions over the top of each other.

‘Do we know how far back they’re from?’

‘Do you think we can get samples?’ 

‘Do you think we could get funding for this kind of research?’

‘How long is this going to last?’

‘Does anyone in the military structure realise how big this is?’

‘Okay!’ Kynase shouted. ‘We don’t know how long this is going to last, but I’d _guess_ the situation’s going to resolve itself or we’d have heard of actual time-travellers before now.’

Maravaroc nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes… there haven’t been _any_ records of time travelling. It can’t be a stable event. We should assume we don’t have long to work.’

There were nods from a couple of senior researchers. They’d already thought of that.

‘So, the question is can we get samples to take readings? An old-fashioned military officer might not like the idea of giving hair or blood, but does anyone think they could steal their shoes?’ Kynase said.

There was a snicker from a couple of early career researchers. 

Kynase glared at them. ‘I am dead serious here.’

Trimsip nodded. ‘Good call, but wouldn’t it be better to _replace_ his shoes? We need to know if they would disappear too.’

‘Great idea. He might not even notice if we just swap them out. I also know a lot of our officers wear hats, was the time-traveller wearing one?’

‘Yes, I saw him,’ Trimsip said.

One of the senior scientists looked up sharply. ‘Him?’ she asked. ‘The time-traveller’s a male?’

‘Yes?’ Trimsip replied. ‘I don’t see how it’s relevant, though.’

‘Speak for yourself. I’m going to fuck him.’

‘What?’ Kynase asked. The pair of younger researchers snickered again.

‘What?’ The senior scientist bristled. ‘Do _you_ know what happens to a child conceived by a time-traveller and a non-time-traveller?’

There was silence in both offices. Kynase pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘That… would actually be really interesting. Okay, look, I am _not_ going to ask anyone to do it because that would be creepy and wrong, but _if_ people choose to go, _of their own volition_ , that’s their choice. But don’t… don’t pressure him if he says no. And make sure you report to medical afterwards, I want frame-by-frame data if you manage to pull it off.’

‘We still need to write up something for the general,’ Maravaroc said.

‘Yes. Right,’ Kynase replied. ‘You draft something up. Say you think he’ll disappear sooner or later.’

‘What sort of time frame?’

‘Kriff if I know. A couple of days, maybe? Just make it sound professional. What was the term you coined in that review on hyperspace tunnelling?’

‘Ghost-loops,’ Maravaroc said smugly. ‘I knew you read it. Wait, that doesn't have anything to do with-’

‘No, it will sound good to the laypeople. Maybe call this an unstable ghost-loop.’

Maravaroc was nodding as he jotted down notes on his datapad. ‘...Okay. Hey, maybe I should include something about time-travel paradoxes?’

Kynase gave him a flat look. ‘Really?’

Maravaroc grinned. ‘Come on, it’s not as if the general’s even going to read the whole thing.’

‘Fine, but I’m not co-signing it.’

‘Pft. It’s not like we’re not going to publish it. Kill-joy.’

Kynase ignored him. She turned back to the lab. ‘Okay, organise who’s going to steal his shoes. I want another group going after his hat. Dalla, you’re good with people, see if you can get an interview and bring him into the lab. We might be able to take some readings. Anyone who’s currently fertile… well, what you do is your own business. Try not to lose objectivity and most emphatically _don’t_ tell me anything that won’t make it into the paper—I don’t want to know.’

Her lab members nodded. A couple of rascals gave her mock-salutes. With any luck, between her researchers and technicians, they might just get some data. She’d never been prouder of them.


End file.
